Hand of Time
by Satanic Mechanic
Summary: Kratos is finding it hard to adjust to his new life in Derris Kharlan, and someone else seems to be adjusting all too quickly.


This was written for a Secret Santa exchange on livejournal (good times, yo!). I figured I'd post it here, too, since I hardly ever produce anything so this is a rare occurrence. (And I feel bad for not updating anything in awhile…I'm a lazy writer, woot!).

Just a bit of Yggy/Kratos/Yuan angsty-ness, 'cause they deserve to suffer.

All standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy!

XxX

"I don't really see the point in this," Kratos frowned slightly at the laughter his statement had provoked. The tone was a bit deeper than what he was used to hearing from the boy but the sound would have been unfamiliar despite the change of voice. There hadn't been much laughing since Martel's death. The sound echoed off the walls in what seemed like a deafening manner but Kratos was sure it was just his newly enhanced hearing that was making him wince.

"Honestly Kratos, for all your wisdom must I still have to explain even the simplest things to you?" the glint of amusement was still in the blonde's eyes as he studied his own outstretched hand, marveling at the long slender digits he possessed. "How can I command any sort of the proper respect looking like a child?"

"You looked fine before," the human trailed off as he let his eyes rest on the old antique clock resting on the mantle of the large fireplace. Mithos had bought it shortly after they had come to reside in Derris Kharlan. That was close to a year ago. The sound of the hollow ticking was a bit distracting as it checked off every second mechanically. Counting down time that was surely meaningless to them now.

"What are you looking at? Look at me," Mithos demanded, sounding familiarly like the old boy for the first time in awhile, the one who would be so eager to show off a new finding or a new skill to his teacher. Kratos was having a hard time sharing in the enthusiasm of Mithos's newly created body, the same as he was having a hard time meeting the eyes of a man who's face he didn't recognize. "Oh…oh Kratos," that unfamiliar voice was a bit softer now, a bit less alien. Pale, adult fingers found their way into Kratos's hair, smoothing down the strands in what was probably meant to be a comforting manner. "I see you still don't approve of this new body of mine. Perhaps I can convince you otherwise?"

"Mithos…stop this," Kratos trailed off as those hands found their way lower, and he felt familiar chaste kisses against his neck.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Yggdrasill?" the reply wasn't to angry, rather it seemed wearily chastising, like he was correcting a child that just didn't know any better. "No, no…I see how uneasy you are lately. I hate seeing you like that, it doesn't suit you. Besides, you were kind enough to comfort me when I was at my lowest, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't do the same?"

"What is that scent your wearing? It seems familiar," Kratos managed to ask as he stared off numbly towards that asinine clock, the words his friend were speaking seeming as hollow and meaningless as the rhythmic ticking.

"It was Martel's perfume, do you like it?" looking down to meet those narrow eyes for the first time that evening, Kratos saw contentment that had been missing there for a long time. A contentment that seemed all too out of place and inappropriate now that it had finally returned.

"Yggdrasill…" he gasped slightly the half-elf nipped at his collar bone and he let his gaze rest on the old clock again, wishing his breath to become as measured and even as the beat of the pendulum.

"Ah, you're learning already, aren't you?"

XxX

"Yuan," the half-elf jumped slightly as he heard his name spoken, even though the statement was soft and affably spoken. Yuan didn't have to turn around to recognize the smooth baritone but smiled slightly as he saw he friend step through the door to his private quarters. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"No, I'm just writing," Yuan capped his ink as he spoke, having had his fill for the night anyway. The candles he had been using to light his desk dwindling and casting an eerie glow to the room.

"I know…I could hear you," Kratos frowned slightly as he took a seat on the man's bed, the statement sounding strange now that he had voiced it. Still, the scratching of the quill wasn't an entirely horrible background noise. It had actually been doing wonders to drown out rather unpleasant thoughts from Kratos' head, but he didn't feel like being alone at the moment.

"Ah, I see," Yuan got up from his chair so that he could sit next to his friend. Close enough so that their shoulders brushed together and Kratos unexpectedly jumped at the contact. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I've just been a bit…on edge lately. I was with Mithos for most of the day. " Not wanting to see the worried look he was getting, Kratos looked down to study the delicate hands clasped in Yuan's lap. He wondered if that was only to stop them from shaking, the man seemed to have adopted the habit whenever the subject of Mithos or his late sister came up.

"Oh, is he doing alright?" Kratos met Yuan's eyes when he asked that question and saw pain there that he had already expected, coupled with a coldness that seemed to be growing as their days up here accumulated.

"He's fantastic," Kratos spoke dryly as he toyed with one of the belts on his uniform, willing that probing gaze away from him.

"It's good," Yuan spoke slowly, as if he wasn't sure if he were speaking the right words, "that he's recovering so nicely, don't you think?" The half-elf cast his eyes downward, the statement coming out more bitter than he would have hoped.

"Everyone deals with death differently, and I don't think he believes she is truly lost," Kratos spoke carefully. They had all agreed on Mithos's plans to revive Martel however hopeless it might have seemed. Whether that was just the last dying hope of a grief stricken brother, or the ravings of a mind that he was watching slowly unravel, Kratos still wasn't sure.

"Kratos…" Sighing wearily, Yuan rested his head on his friend's shoulder. It took all of Kratos' strength not to shirk back from the contact. He wanted to be strong, wanted to be the rock that the other two could lean on, as he had been during their previous journey. He wanted to, but he'd never felt more like collapsing. It was unfortunate that he felt that way, seeing as how this journey surely would prove to be much longer than the last. "Do you think, what we're doing is right?"

Letting the question hang in the air, Kratos could almost swear he could hear that old clock ticking halfway across the castle. At least, he wished he could, would have welcomed the sound that served as such a nice distraction before. It wasn't a question that he wanted to answer, wasn't something he was beginning to have much hope for. "I suppose…only time will tell."

For a moment it was quiet, and Kratos could feel Yuan's shallow breathing against his neck. "You…smell good today, really…wonderful," Yuan whispered as he loosely wrapped his arms around Kratos' waist, letting his full bodyweight rest on the other's frame. Kratos tried to control his breathing, well aware that Yuan was close enough to feel the rising and falling of his chest and any abnormalities that might come along with it.

He would have liked to take credit for the pleasant scent on his skin today, but it wasn't his own. Nor was it the man's whom he had picked it up from. Instead, Kratos closed his eyes and tried not to crumble against the pressure of the other man's body.


End file.
